


None The Wiser

by dauwtrappen



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gen, Immortal Skull (Reborn), fon you sneaky sneak, more tags will eventually be added, omg get these idiots a room pls, s.k.y stands for StinK eYe a poem by luce, skull is skull, skull really hates this hitman's guts for some reason i wonder why ahahaha, skull who are you, skull's storytelling is awful and viper has no time for that, treat skull well, verde's not in the mood for your silly act skull but good try
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-02 21:59:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13327218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dauwtrappen/pseuds/dauwtrappen
Summary: There was a time before stunts and daily hookups with death, a time where Skull had not been Skull but just a boy with a neck much too long for the grim reaper not to gnaw on, a time where he was just a cirrus cloud with a lackadaisical view on his surroundings, a time where he was just himself – a nobody.





	1. Sweet Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I miss KHR!... And I love to explore characters' backgrounds so have my attempt at Skull's!

There was a time before stunts and daily hookups with death, a time where Skull had not been Skull but just a boy with a neck much too long for the grim reaper not to gnaw on, a time where he was just a cirrus cloud with a lackadaisical view on his surroundings, a time where he was just himself – a nobody.

Sometimes, he missed that time with a passion despite the halcyon days being far redder than the many wounds he accumulated as a stuntman, far more dangerous with a body _too thin too weak_ to protect himself from _the words the beatings the pain._ Life was so much simpler when he was just a survivor amongst others, just a speck of dust compared to the burning stars, just a child with the innocence of a cumulus.

And then wisps of Cloud grew and became _his armor his lifeline_ , childhood and adolescence bleeding together and leaving him dead awake during cloudless nights as he wondered if he even existed, his smile and love stripped from him just as easily as a band aid would.

But reality was a harsh reminder of how the little, pale boy with too big eyes and too much curiosity for his own good sake was replaced by a confused, gangly teen with scars and digits marring his skin only to quickly cast aside the remaining slivers of warmth and familiarity to turn into a man with uncountable masks and personalities.

Until he felt the peril loosen its chains around him, the bruising kisses of pain becoming butterflies, the fear nothing but a forgettable scar. For the first time in forever he breathed in his freedom, the simplicity of living and not just surviving, the calm after the storm. Dread and cold seized him immediately, quick exhales of panic and terror leaving him as he clawed back to his footing.

Serenity was not for a man like him as it would be for the boy he once was, and with such a mindset he headed straight into the beckoning voices of danger and imminent death and burrowed his head in the chest of threats’.

Fear could only lick at his boots as crash after crash replaced his broken bones and mangled body. He was an immortal man with a craving for death, a penchant for destruction and mayhem, a tendency to flip life with a crooked smile and middle finger. He was Skull.

There was a time when Skull was not Skull but just a sweet boy who had yet to feel the embrace of Cloud but who could still leap across the sky and seek out his siblings hiding from him, who could capture mackerels, cloudlets, anything with just a gaze, who could lull crying thunder beasts into slumber. But in order to become the stuntman he was today he exchanged his memories of a guileless life for Skull the Immortal and in the end he, just like everyone else, was none the wiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this little piece! Leave a comment if you want to see more of this! And if anything, feel free to share your thoughts about it! ^^ (If I continue... the writing will probably change lol but bear with me pls I'm rusty)


	2. Poor Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhh i might have raised the rating from G to T but it's not something to worry about really I'm a clean citizen who means you no harm no surprise gore i swear

Whenever death licked its wounds and hissed at him for showing his wrecked face in its realm he usually found himself sitting on the ledge and gazing at the vast, twinkling night sky as his body knitted itself back together _, silently, efficiently._

He never minded the moon viewing, quite the opposite in fact as it was one of the few things he could remember from his childhood unlike everything else in his bland life. The moon and the stars were after all the only constant reminders of who he once was, who he once used to be, even though he had long since forgotten his name and the feeling of being free.

 _But what was a name’s worth if there was no one to call him by it anyway_ , he used to ponder out loud to the moon as the wind impishly snatched his words and threw them haphazardly around his surroundings.

That was until the wind made way for a man with soft words, mellow voice but sharp eyes and even sharper ears as silence roared between them. “May I?” was the killer of peace as Skull shifted on the ledge and made room for the raven-haired with the polite smile and crispy smell of leaves as his fragrance.  

He could only feel the emptiness growing as he stared at the Storm who seemingly stewed over his own thoughts while Skull’s deafened him with _Why, why, why, why now, why, why, why?_

“I, too, like the calm of the night”, Fon suddenly said with a knowing gaze and Skull nodded to his demise absently, nodded _a last goodbye_ to the moon, as he wondered just when storms had become quiet as mice to drop a few eaves and glances at his direction.

At the moment Skull could not help but to liken fate as a drunkard when it came to cursing humans with the colors of the sky. Because it was a shame that this serene man was a roaring gale beast when being a rain bird or a cloud fish would treat him better, would ease the wary glint in this gentle soul’s eyes, would save the poor soul from a life he never deserved to live through.

But if this howling Storm was sneakier than the faintest Mists, Skull was glad that fate had spared his remaining secrets and not let Fon be a cloudlet. (He would rue the day when a man with sharp, deadly eyes, and even sharper, keener ears wandered around the world with the touch of Cloud.) He could give up his nightlights and drown in the dark if that meant no more prying fingers would rip him apart and reveal his ugly self.

“It’s getting colder though”, Skull dared to crack a rough smile, startling the other man from his reveries and gaining his full attention. “S’better to just stay inside where it’s warm and hide from the biting wind, right?” And before Fon could blink and smile on reflex his nose got nipped hastily by Skull, gloved thumb tightly wrapped in between his middle and index finger.

“…What is that?” Skull looked at him scandalously and shoved his fist in front of the bemused man’s face. Clearly aghast by the lack of reaction he unfurled his hand and dropped it just as quick as his playfulness slipped from his face.

“Your nose, silly.” The cloud shook its bewilderment and drifted away after patting Fon’s cheeks, _tiny flickering curling_ flames left behind. Hopefully, the hazy flames would keep the meddling man warm just for a while.

 

In exchange of his love for the stars, his love for the moon and its calming light he suddenly remembered a name he carried as a child, until his blood turned violet and he let his Cloud grow wild. He pulled out his tongue, slammed it through the ground and spat on what was once good, what was once pure, what was once everything he wanted _after so many years in oblivion in despair in hysteria._ The familiar burn of his tongue regrowing left him cold, numb and hurting.  

Who needed to know his name when he was the only one alive who knew it anyway?  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhh I listened to a song about the moon and I got inspired to write the second chapter... we will be having some interactions with the other Arcobaleno members and then hopefully the actual story will begin? Feel free to share your thoughts! ^^ And once again, thanks for reading!


	3. Lovebirds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skull is half amused, half bemused but mostly just annoyed

Although not a dancer by trade and only occasionally partaking in a dance or two before excusing himself with an apologetic look, he knew the majority of them, knew the slow dance, the fierce rumba, the lively foxtrot, the sensuous waltz.

He had seen countless of dances throughout his life; ones that gathered butterflies in their wake, ones that sought after destruction and rivalry, ones that left a passion deep enough to move _mountains, worlds, universes._ But this, this he had never seen.

He winced at the sudden impale of a heel and quickly turned his partner around, a patient smile on his lips, as he ushered both of them further away from the onslaught of daggers aimed at him.

“S-sorry”, said his partner, her gaze downcast as she tried to follow his sleek movements with her rigid steps, having no knowledge of the tempestuous man brewing up a storm a stone’s throw away.

“S’quite alright.” Skull shuddered at the murderous look the man sent him when he dipped his partner, just barely noticing the icy blue promising pain and hurt while Lal Mirch kicked him in the shin on reflex, clearly not prepared of the sudden change in the dance. Exclamation of pain and apologies were uttered before the clumsy waltz resumed.

 _Colonnello_ was the name of the man completely infatuated with his dance partner, he wracked through his brain, and blanched at the sheer jealousy directed towards him as he danced with another man’s sun, moon and shooting stars.

Once upon a time, he too had a lover; a lover with the brightest smile and most charming laugh, a love who would kiss him mute instead of giving him greetings, a sweetheart who cherished him, hugged him _just a bit too hard, just a bit too long, just a bit too right_ , a darling who shouted sweet nothings after him, who brought him feathers to his plucked wings who kept him floating in this vast sea called reality. _Who loved him._

But that was before universes were discovered, before magic was forgotten and lost, before the wars tore lives asunder and left him mourning for a lost love he wished he could hold onto _just one more time_. Life was cruel and so were these two whom danced around each other rather than with each other, waltzed away from each other. How could they tempt fate to strike them and ban their love when life was nothing but fleeting?

So when the music picked up in volume and tempo, Skull became more daring, pressed himself a bit closer to his partner and looked her in the eye with a gentleman’s smile, politely ignoring the reddening cheeks and twirled her around with ease. If people smitten with love decided to blindly play chase, then it was up to him to initiate the race, and soon enough the Rain approached with a purpose, intent on freeing his beloved from Skull’s clutches.

Only for him to be floored as Skull snaked a hand around Colonnello’s waist and neatly switched places, situating the Rain right behind his cherished one. Before baffling, chastising words could be exchanged, Skull lifted a finger to his lips equipped with a quelling glare and offered his thanks for the dance to his former partner.

“W-what are you-” Skull cut them off with a bow and smirked lazily at the flushed couple before standing up straight and turned around, his escape right in front of him, just waiting for him to flee and seek refuge outside the ballroom.

“You lovebirds need to _listen_ sometimes”, he said with a huff and slinked through the dancing mass, faintly aware of the beating waiting for him when night turned day. When his feet found themselves right in front of the exit he cast one last glance towards the Rains, taking in the sight of the fumbling duo as they tried to find and dance to the beat of the drum.

Even though their dance was slow, proof of them being deaf to the buoyant music, adoring gazes and loving smiles were returned. Skull approved with a grin and left quietly.

 

What a strange dance it was, but alas, a dance nevertheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost cried while I wrote this. I'm v emotional lol I'm assuming this, just like the previous and the oncoming chapters, is prior to the curse! As always, thanks for reading! Feel free to share a thought on this chapter :D


	4. Madman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skull is a stuntman for a reason

Being a thrill seeker with roguish grins, hooded devil-may-care eyes and a deranged laugh, was an easy way to gain the attention, the recognition a stuntman thrived on. That also meant he was supposed to be familiar with his audience’s observing gazes, even though his persona, his act, his Skull de Mort shtick was only for him to have a quick taste of death and numbing pain.

But when Verde gave him a levelled look, a look that shook his very being, punched him breathless and reminded him of children’s screams, tiny spaces and needles, he could not help but let out a whimper and shiver in the cozy, warm bed he was in, covers hiding _wounds, scars, dried blood_ and only showing a set of frightful eyes.

He had no answers for him, no single explanation for his body knitting itself back together after countless of gunshots, falls, explosions, no reasoning for his inability to _cease, desist, die_ so he could join his siblings, his friends, his lover, no nothing. Simply because death was too good at its own game, a demanding game called “Endless ways of messing up with my little undead trooper”, and had ripped out his vocal cords and his identity as his entry fee.

After a decade, a century had passed between them, the scientist wondered if he was running on anything else than Cloud and idiocy, which would usually be met with indignation and whining, but was instead complied with a muffled no from the coward, too afraid to share _the sun the sky the rain_ who had once brought him life, filled his lungs with love and sheltered him from everything bad.

Loyalty was the only trait he liked on him so he remained mum and hid his gift as a storyteller, as a _shanachie_ who created life with his stories, who left magic hanging in the air, even though there was no one left to be loyal to, no one to defend and fight for,  _not anymore._ The truth that he had been born less human and more of the unknown, was indeed not a secret from his past but could be left hidden and alone in lies and rumors for his always worrying, constantly buzzing mind.

“Just who are you?” There was a manic glint in the scientist’s eyes as the writing momentarily paused, recovering from the endless tidbits of the specimen Skull he had documented. Thousands of responses flitted through his heads, chirping, pecking at his lobe until he stuck out his head from the covers with an arrogant smile and a haughty look.

“Why, I’m the Great Skull, of course!” The sheer disgust on the scientist as he threw his notepad to the ground almost made him break character, his face trying to be cheeky but wanting to light up with impish glee at the same time. Small successes really did give the greatest prizes sometimes, he marveled.

Out of all the personalities Skull had created and polished and perfected, being the obnoxious stuntman was a clear favorite as it let him get under people’s skin, let him get at life with his reckless behavior, let him have infinite, foolproof tries at challenging death, let him forget the constant sorrow and bitter regret of what once used to be _his._

“Why do I even bother…” Verde muttered under his breath, expletives rushing out from him like a rapid as he walked out of the sickbay, his day wasted on trying to unravel the enigma who had gotten himself caught in an explosion and should be dead but came out smelling like gunpowder and bleeding but alive instead.

Skull had a faint inkling of what the man had seen, having seen it uncountable times in the mirror himself; his head blown off only for it to regrow, his jaw unhinged just to attach itself back while black goop came out from underneath in chunks, both eye sockets _empty, haunting_ until the sclera, the pupils stared right back at the madman.

But sometimes, it was better to just proceed with life like nothing had happened, even though he had been a walking horror movie for everyone to see, he noted mirthfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a hard chapter to write D: But I managed to get a clean sweep with the amount of words so now it's still ending on zeroes lol (d-did anyone notice though) 
> 
> A shanachie is a skilled teller of tales or legends!
> 
> Anyone up for a headcanon? 
> 
> Although not a man of wits, Skull actively enjoys listening to people rambling about stuff he doesn't understand, because he likes the shine in their eyes and the enthusiasm and the way their faces light up with delight when someone's interested and just love him ok 
> 
> Thanks for reading!! ^^ Feel free to share a thought!


	5. Nosy Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skull is not really that good at acting sometimes

Hatred was not an unfamiliar feeling, not for someone like Skull who had had his fair share of the raw emotion aimed at him, sizzling inside of him, killed for him. So when he felt the contempt brooding and boiling over he plastered a toothy grin and a friendly demeanor and reached out his hand, only to get turned down and jeered at. This was met with little surprise, in fact it was expected, as the Sun glared and stung him with its intense heat.

He squinted, flinched and ducked away from the burning flare, just like the various times he did as a child with hands too small to cover his face from the terrors he had seen, and a waning will to survive just to feel the moonlight shine on him once more. It had been a careless pass to consider himself an equal to the hitman, despite the similarities the two shared.

“Why is there a civilian here?” And out of all the things the sun could have spit out, not that he had any knowledge of the survivor, the defender, the cirrus cloud Skull once used to be, he had chosen the simplest one and turned it into a curse, an insult, a bane to his puny existence. (Was it really puny if he had lived through generations after generations?)

Hate was a brother to fear and fear itself was a seducer who could ensnare even the deadliest, strongest, most courageous soldier; and so fall he did, while violet flames kissed his shoulder blades, licked his forearms, caressed his clenched fists as sheer fear seeped out from him, seething words slipping out from his mouth, “What do you mean, ‘civilian’?”

The very moment his eyes met Reborn, he forgot that Skull the stuntman was a daredevil with a nonchalant flair and not the confrontational recruit, _veteran_ who split skies and seas in two. It had slipped his mind how terrifying it was meeting someone else so alike, that he reacted instinctively as anxiety poisoned his blood while he tried to rein in the smolder of carnage.

It would not do well for him to lie in front of this man, his rationality had whispered to him in velvet, soothing tones and tightened the holds on his façade as a fretful, civilian boy. So Skull changed, _adjusted_ his perfected, polished stuntman act accordingly to this mismatched group who had never heard of the enigmatic, lackadaisical Skull de Mort with his manic obsession to kill the definition of the impossible, _the unimaginable._

“Did you say something?” Reborn tested him, keenly aware of the fight and ill intent brewing inside of him. After a conflict with his heart Skull settled it with a shook of his head, willing himself not to bare his teeth and snarl like an animal, to punch in his smirking face and obliterate _the world’s greatest hitman_ ; because Skull the stuntman was a simple man with no attachments to his feral emotions, nor his immense distaste for this nosy sun and suns in general.

But his defiance must have been etched on his face bright like a tattoo dipped in neon ink because in a heartbeat the hitman was in front of him, amusement dancing in his eyes as a familiar roguish smirk darted around his lips. Silence reigned and laughed at him from its throne as Skull stood his ground, too late to avert his gaze with the playful sun beast, until his rebellion gave way for a minimal flash of approval.  

He had always been a believer that fear was unyielding, almighty, and omnipotent, but he had been an even greater follower of the smallest, bravest act having fear fleeing, and although he had not slain the dragon, he could feel the tension suddenly ease and slip out from the choking air. So with a grin Skull the fool reached for the sun, because bravery was always followed by respect and awe, only to get blinded once again by the intensity that was Reborn.

 

“Just don’t get in the way, civilian”, Reborn finished, ignorant to hatred rearing its ugly head back again as Skull sneered and swore to be the last man standing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found time to finish the chapter and frankly, this one was the most fun to write so far! 
> 
> Would also like to clarify that the chapters are not really chronological yet but this can also be interpreted as Skull's first meeting with Reborn and how much he hated his guts aha ha ha ha
> 
> A riddle: No matter how intense, how arduous, how dangerous his task is, he will fulfill it with his own certain charm and flair and exceed expectations as always. Because he is a man who has little to fear and even less to lose, he is a man with death trailing behind him, life leading him, he is-- Who? (There's only one answer!)
> 
> Thank you so much for all your support! I hope we will have a long run with this one! Feel free to share your thoughts!


	6. Lively Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skull is dearly loved by idiocy and forgetfulness

He knew ever since he was young that he was a foolish boy who had to jump into a bonfire to feel it burning, burning hotly and rapidly melting away layers of skin, tissues, disintegrating bones, marrow, to _know_ that fire hurt. And so with stupidity he had gotten trapped again and again when he looked into those eyes, eyes so expressive that he fell deep into their soul the moment their gazes found each other, rapidly swept away in a _warm fuzzy feeling_ until they were both jolted back from their sudden paralysis. 

Every time there would be a chuckle – voice light as morning dew – before drawing him out of his reveries, coaxing him to share his thoughts for the world to stop and listen to. Every time, he would flounder, croak like a sitting frog in a well, before he would strip his awkward persona and put on a warm coat of familiarity and hum to the welcoming lull in each other’s company.

But that was a time before he forgot his face and voice, a time when sunlight set the pace of the day and moonlight guiding stars and boats through the night, a time where smiles were freely given to the weary and sad, a time where he had exchanged vows with a sky that was his, only for the promises of _love, honor and cherish_ to be broken as death collected life’s debts.

So when he had first met _her_ , it had almost come as a shock and sudden as a heart attack. After a dull lifetime with listless days and restless nights with unforgiving memories, he had gotten caught by a _spirit so lithe and spry_ that he had just sprawled onto the grass and let himself get embraced by the bright glow from the young sky by the name of light.

Although the lively sky held no candle to his – because no one could, _would_ ever fill that gaping hole again – her shine was bright and _vivid and so reminiscent of his love_ that he swore to protect her just like a brother would, despite knowing that there would be a time for this girl called light to go out and that he would rage for a thousand days and a thousand nights before getting swallowed by everlasting grief.

Short meetings became longer visits and soon she was a constant light in his life as the gaping hole in the middle of his chest stopped hurting. And then the girl with a splash of orange on her left cheek flickered his nose and berated him for his stunned silence. “Mister, it’s been years since we met but I still haven’t gotten your name!” He blinked, hastily trading off a dead name out of the many ones he had used in past centuries and life spans, and grinned sharply at the unforgiving, suspicious glare directed towards him.

“It’s for your own best, really”, he simply said, his mask almost cracked with awe by the stink eye he received from the girl, and rose up to his feet to search for a name and a sense of purpose for this century, his ears piping hot and red from his blunder of not having a name for his sister to call him.

And during his pursuit for an identity and a name not too complicated he slowly realized that years would quickly turn into decades and that the young girl by the name of light was now a woman by the name of Luce and her stink eye was just as impressive as it had been when she had been a child. Her gaze slapped him, trapped him like a caged bird and demanded him to perform daring tricks to beast the silence that engulfed them both before she sighed and asked, “Well?”

“…Respect your elders? I-I mean I’m Skull!” It was humiliating the way he changed his reply in a heartbeat, but the mortification was quickly thrown aside when she went in for a tight hug, the sudden _warm fuzzy feeling_ back again after _so many years_ to finally sew shut the gaping hole he had instead of a heart.

What a stink eye, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I screwed up I never realized the chapters were 700w each (aside from the first one but oh well) sooo I guess I gotta commit to that sin now, gotta write another 700w before we (I, I’m the sole perpetrator here) can finally be at peace. 
> 
> And the chapter may not be up to par but the only thought I had when writing this was:
> 
> "AHAHAHHA SKULL YOU FOOL you have to introduce yourself otherwise you’ll be called bad names duh also young luce is a meanie and calls you 'u wet sock, mr cold bowl of soup, a poor excuse of a functioning adult etc etc' until she gets your name after like 2-3 decades man Skull your math sucks"
> 
> Anyway, thank you for the lovely support! One more and then we're off to some story magic!! :D Feel free to share what you would like to see in the near future!


	7. Confused Mist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skull tells a tale of wonder and awe

_He was born to summer breezes and lightning kisses, raised on singing woods and candle flickers, a childhood friend to wanderlust and woolgathering._ And after millions of evening sunbursts and gentle skyfalls he would have his head up in the clouds and be lost in thoughts all alone, eyes glazed with the hidden wonders of the world. His reveries were usually more of bleak hopes and shallow wishes to drag him down and fill his lungs with despair and fear, and less of bitter yet sweet memories to guide him through rivers of hardships and oblivion.

But sometimes he would remember _a name, a voice, a face_ with thunderous clarity and he would suck in a shaky breath of salt and wet mess as he was pleaded guilty in the court of forgetfulness, forever banned, _exiled_ from forgiveness that would have been generously given by his loved ones. Alas, that was just the curse of being old as time he had come to learn throughout his years of suffering, his own face long forgotten.

There were instances where he would pass by his reflection, his dark locks and even darker eyes bleeding away for a stranger with eerie familiarity, and at such a sight he could not help but wonder if he had been a boy with the unruliest hair and greenest eyes, a teen with piercing blue and hair dyed in red with constellations stretching out like a cat and mapping out his entire face.

However, that was a time before he got ensnared in death’s maddening game, before life lost its claim, before he even knew his own name, so it was without a doubt that anything his mind produced was just nice falsities. He had been branded a changeling the moment he bled violet and breathed fire, but he had been naïve and negligent of the furtive glances and fearful whisperings of his beings, and so he was simply none the wiser.

“Poetic, but useless”, a voice snapped at him like a viper, slapping him back to reality. Skull snorted, pressing a little harder into the wound with soap and received a pained hiss.

“That’s the point of this story, Viper. Now be a good kid and sit still”, he reprimanded and dug his nails into the injury _in retaliation_ , earning a growl but also reluctant silence.  

 _He was made of howling stillness and lulling deluges, always favored by silver silence and golden laughter, a follower of peace and love._ And with a fool’s mindset he would cross oceans and run through skies with the purest heart. Fairytales that were to be listened with a child’s glee soon became adventures to be told by a mischievous adolescent and he would spin magical yet befuddling stories, create soldiers and wizened men only to be slain by queens and goddesses.

“What does that even mean?”

“Eh, he fancied someone, that’s all.” Skull took a second before he answered absently.

 _He was struck by blazing tears and gelid breaths, led by mendacious truth and honest calumny, a pacifist no longer with his heart and mind._ And he had been a terror on the battlefield, leaving nothing but carnage and weeping widows and children. His innocence was long gone, his love for life and its beauty nothing but dust, and he would burn down bridges and set cities ablaze to drive out the agony and constant ringing in his ears, because fate had dealt him a hand too unjust.

“I didn’t understand a thing of what you just said.” Skull could only grin sharply as he gave a gentle pat to the confused mist’s bandaged arm, all grime and bacteria rinsed out from the wound, bright yellow and pink band aids acting as tape.

“Neither did he”, Skull supplied helpfully before Viper disappeared into thin air with a sneer, no small gratitude uttered between them.

_He was handpicked by morose life and cackling death, inflicted with ceaseless longevity and expired happiness, a remnant amongst thousands of hapless faces and cursed existences. He was Skull, and he was losing it.  And even to this day he would roam the world without an aim, always waiting until he was freed from his curse._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I moved and had to fix a lot of stuff in the meantime D:
> 
> This chapter took a weird turn and it's barely comprehensible but hey can you catch you catch you catch me catch me all these references? (That itself was a reference lol) If you didn't understand, basically Skull's storytelling is shiT because it won't make u understand a thing????
> 
> anyway, all the drabbles are done!! we can finally begin with the story!! :D any suggestions on what you wanna see while we defeat this helluva beast? 
> 
> also omg what is this? 100+ kudos??? Thank you!! (Even though I don't really know what they do but oh well) As always, thank you for the support! Feel free to share a thought!


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